


What Creates My Madness

by prototyping



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Action, Gen, action fic, because Zagi is one sick puppy, character profile, fight fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Insight on Zagi's (unstable) mindset during his first fight with Yuri. Action fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Creates My Madness

The first time he fought Yuri Lowell, there was nothing short of that ecstatic rush, that exhilarating thrill.  _This was what he had lived for._  This was what he had craved.  
  
The feel of that too-silver blade slicing over his skin – his  _face_ , no less! – was so strange, so foreign, so  _new—_  
  
Zagi  _loved_  it.  
  
That was his own blood dripping down his cheek, his own metallic taste on his tongue seconds later. His hand trembled as he raised it to the cut – the  _cut_  – and for an instant he was breathless at the sight of that perfect scarlet on his fingertips. And then there was this swordsman, posed for more with his sword at the ready, not possibly comprehending what he had just set in motion—  
  
And all of it, everything, was just  _so_  right and excellent, so justified and fateful, that Zagi laughed like he hadn't in years. This – this stranger, this man, was his missing link, because for all of Zagi's self-driven devotion to fighting, his bloodlust had always lacked something, some satisfaction, and now he realized:  
  
All these years, it had lacked a rival.  
  
Even the word was new, and before tonight he would have sneered at it – but now – oh,  _now_  was a whole new world, a new experience when he'd been so sure that fighting and killing couldn't possibly get better than it was.  
  
_Yuri Lowell._  
  
The name would become an obsession, a devotion, his first and last thought of every day, until he finally cut the life from the swordsman with everything he had. He would kill Yuri – he would  _murder_  Yuri, he would hold Yuri down while that wonderfully wild heartbeat slammed against his fingers, slowing with each wave of blood spilled and splattered over Yuri's body until there was no more to be taken and those eyes –  _those familiar eyes_  – were empty, and even then Zagi would continue to cut, again and again, until Yuri wasn't recognizable, and he'd  _still_  cut, wanting to savor this ideal adversary for all that blood was worth until the ground was painted with it in the signature of the grateful killer.  
  
The prospect was sinfully alluring – so enticing that it was almost a  _seduction_ , because Zagi would feel nothing short of lust for the life beating in Yuri's veins and the thought of  _taking_  it would send the darkest, most addicting sort of pleasure through him until he was buzzing with a savage, primal desire for that one moment.  
  
He would  _live_  for that one moment.  
  
The nick of a sword edge over his skin – that was all it took for Zagi to know all of this, to see his life spiral and narrow to a single point. One focus. One  _purpose._  
  
Yuri Lowell.


End file.
